


Before You Fall

by Kshadow



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: And I want everyone to suffer with me, Angst, Character Death, F/M, I have a lot of emotions about Vex dying again, POV Second Person, Resurrection, character introspection, spoilers through episode 81
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9463049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kshadow/pseuds/Kshadow
Summary: Monachopsis (n)The subtle but persistent feeling of being out placeSome people come back from death intact. Some people don't. How do you live without the parts left behind?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm never going to be over Vex dying again. Also, I really like the idea that Vex was more affected by her deaths than we saw in the show.  
> The word Monachopsis comes from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, and I thought it fit this piece quite well.

You died once, and then you came back.

You came back unaware, and it hurt your family more than it hurt you. You don’t remember dying, or what death was like, but all of them remember losing you.

Your brother belongs to the Raven Queen now, his offering for your life. You don’t like to think about him begging for Her to take him instead of you, not when you’ve never been worth his sacrifices. Besides, you would never be able to live in a world without your twin, and you would never want to.

You don’t say anything, not wanting to acknowledge to anyone, not even yourself, that something has changed, something about living and dying and what they make you feel.

“I’m not scared to die anymore!” You had exclaimed to Keyleth, a realization that was both terrifying and almost to the point of liberating, but not quite making it to the freedom you desired. But regardless, your words are true, despite the fear they strike into the hearts of your family.

You only think about it when you’re alone, and you’re alone far too often these days. You have a terrible feeling, a horrible thought that you might not have come back completely intact. As time goes on, a question creeps into your mind, rooting itself in your thoughts: where you even meant to come back?

Saundor’s words cut deeper than you’ll ever reveal to anyone, but they hurt all the same and you reveal more than you ever meant to. “My heart belongs to another,” you proclaim. Later, you clutch your newly acquired bow in an iron grip, wondering how much truth Saundor’s words held. Your family will deny it, but you know better, don’t you? You’ve always been too selfish; how many people has your greed hurt?

You watch Percy die, stand guard over his body as your arrows pierce Ripley from afar. Ripley took you all by surprise, and if anyone is to blame for Percy’s still, bloody body, it’s her, but you still feel like there was something you could’ve, should’ve done to save him.

In Whitestone, Orthax’s grip on Percy’s soul is broken, and Pike resurrects him. But you revealed too much too late, and now everyone knows that your heart belongs to Percy. He wakes, gasping for air, and you draw away even as pleased and relieved is you are. Percy is too young and has suffered and lost too much, receiving so little in return. If anyone deserved a second chance, it was him.

You didn’t remember what occurred when you were dead, and neither does Percy, which shouldn’t hurt but still does. Everyone else knows you love him, everyone but him. And you’ll never tell him and the others won’t either. You know Percy deserves something good for a change, something better than the half elven bastard girl who has never been enough for anyone.

Percy kisses you after Vorugal is dead, after you and your twin talk about happiness. And you want happiness, but you’re not meant for it. You’re not even meant to be alive. He tells you to expect to talk later, and when he shows up at your door before you go to confront Thordak the Cinder King, you’re tired of waiting for that talk. You’re tired of a lot of things these days, but you love him and you know that, and you can ignore everything else you know for one night, especially when there’s no certainty that there’ll be a second night.

Everyone survives Thordak, even if there were some close calls. But it is Raishan, the Diseased Deciever, who kills you the second time. You are dead for even less time than the first, Pike quickly reviving you. You take the first breath, and you feel even more wrong than you did after your first resurrection. Most people don’t survive dying once, let alone twice, and that is exactly what you have done.

Your family is solemn, but relieved. You wish you could share that relief, but you can feel it. Not all of you came back this time, if you even came back whole last time. You don’t have to wonder anymore if you were meant to come back. It is all too clear now that you weren’t meant to survive the first time, let alone the second.

There are pieces of you that have drifted away in the manner of dreams upon waking, pieces of you that have torn away, leaving behind frayed threads of something that might have once been whole. There are pieces of you that have broken off, leaving jagged edges that you cut yourself deeper upon.

In the middle of shadowy dreams and a soul and body that continue to ache with the pain that preluded your second death, you feel the sting of betrayal. You know that you chose to fire your arrows at Raishan, but you also know that you wouldn’t have made that choice if your brother hadn’t refused to listen to you arguing against fighting Raishan as tired and drained as you all were, choosing Keyleth and her desire for revenge above the lives of the entirety of Vox Machina, including you, his very own twin.

You love Keyleth like she is your sister, but part of you blames her for your death; part of you blames her and Vax and though you know you love both of them, you can’t find it within yourself to consider forgiving either of them or forgetting the betrayal you feel. Was the part of you that was capable of forgiving and forgetting gone? Was it torn away, broken off like so much of you? No, perhaps it simply burned like Thordak’s fiery lair, consumed by flame until it was ash.

You can’t blame your brother for his lack of worry, so different from his reaction when you first died, but he was unconscious when Pike revived you, and you suspect he doesn’t know (or wants to admit) you died again. For all he rushes into fights and confrontations, he has never been good at being open about emotions. How many conversations has he walked away from? How many more will he walk away from?

You see things out of the corner of your eye, shadows that disappear the moment you pay them any attention. They’re darker, heavier the more danger you’re in, nearly consuming your vision in the final confrontation against Raishan. One night, as you curl against Percy, you wonder if Orthax’s darkness ever clouded his vision like these shadows do yours.

The shadows of death haunt your every step, curling around your body in mockery of a loving embrace. Did Pike truly bring you back from the dead? Or did she bring the dead to life?

Your third death is your last.

For the first time, the shadows solidify, and you see the Raven Queen standing in the middle of the battle, Her gaze fixed upon you. Her whisper reaches your mind even as Her face remains unmoving. “Soon,” she promises.

The shadows vanish and you can see clearly again. How long has it been since you last were without death swirling around you? Too long, you think, and you are filled with the desire to have just a bit more time; one last chance to see the world as you once did, through eyes that didn't see death everywhere you looked.

You see your twin crouching over you, he's terrified, yelling from someone to do something, anyone. His tears fall onto you, and you want to reassure him, but you can't move. Percy is there moments later, and he looks lost, broken.

You wanted one last chance to see the world without shadows haunting you. You didn't get to see the world, but you see them, as bloody, bruised, and weary as they are, without shadows to block your vision, and you find contentment in that.

The shadows return, swirling around you, lifting you higher and higher. You've always loved the freedom of flying, and that made it so easy to fall.

You've fallen before, and now you fall again.

This time, you don't get back up.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first work I've shared for Critical Role. If anyone is interested in reading some of the others, please let me know, and I'll share those too.


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